


I fell from the pedestal - Right down the rabbit hole

by Saltedkiss



Series: Merthur Week 2020 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Druid Merlin, Druid Merlin (Merlin), Fluff, Healing Magic, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Merthur Week 2020, canon era AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltedkiss/pseuds/Saltedkiss
Summary: Arthur, Prince of Camelot, finds himself hurt and alone in the woods after a run-in with a nasty six-legged monster. His saviour turns out to be one of the people he's been taught to hate. A druid, named Merlin.Written for Merthurweek 2020Prompt 3 -  Day 3“You’re hurt. Please, just let me heal it.” + Hurt/Comfort
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Merthur Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066913
Comments: 30
Kudos: 168
Collections: Merthur Week 2020





	I fell from the pedestal - Right down the rabbit hole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchmd13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchmd13/gifts).



> For my dearest [Witchmd13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchmd13). I hope this story brings you some joy. You deserve it, after the week you've had.  
> I love you.

Arthur tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword when he saw his Knights disappear in the direction of the  caves he'd told them to go to. Right on time too, as a deafening roar echoed over the clearing. He’d ordered his men to retreat, after the six-legged monster they’d been chasing had decided to turn Camelot’s finest into its prey rather than allowing them to be the hunters. And it had done so swiftly and effectively. Arthur had lost two of his knights to the beast’s maw. And he’d rather die than see another fall victim to the monster. After seeing the rest of his men well on their way to safety, Arthur had circled back around to the forest clearing in an attempt to light a fire between his men’s escape route and the beast. He’d meant to buy them the time they needed.

And he had. 

Or at least he hoped he had. Because whether or not the plan had worked, it was too late for him, now. He felt the beast’s enormous fangs sink into his armour, pulling him off the ground out of his hiding place. Or that was what the beast had meant to do at least. If Arthur’s leg hadn’t been lodged behind the root of the  tree he’d hidden behind. Arthur felt his leg twist. Heard something snap.

The pain that seared through his leg was unlike anything he’d felt before. So raw, Arthur feared his leg might have been torn off at the knee. He didn’t have time to look down and see if it was still attached to his body, however, seeing as how he was well on his way of becoming the monster’s dinner. 

Arthur managed to plunge his sword into the creature’s neck, down to the hilt. Thick black blood gushed out of the gaping wound, covering him in the oily substance. And then the creature let go. For about half a second, Arthur felt relief at no longer being trapped between the beast’s jaws. Then he remembered this release meant he was on his way back to the ground. 

The one good thing about the landing was the confirmation that Arthur’s leg was, in fact, still attached to his body. This, he found out the moment he landed on it, right before everything went black. 

When Arthur woke up, he was on horseback, pressed against another man’s chest. Thank the gods for the Knight who’d come back to find him. Right on time, too, it seemed. The air around him was dark and thick with smoke. The fire he’d lit must have spread. The Knight held Arthur up right with one strong arm, as he held onto the horse’s reigns with the other.

Arthur went in and out of consciousness as his saviour somehow manoeuvred them through the forest without being able to see the path ahead. The Knight deserved a plot of land somewhere as a reward for his heroic actions. He really did. 

As soon as they got out of the forest, the air cleared around them. They galloped forward until they crossed a wide stream. Right on time, too, Arthur thought, as he coughed up thick black slime. 

“Good, you’re alive,” the Knight said, “I’m going to help you get down, alright? Easy.”

The Knight dismounted, one hand still on Arthur’s arm, ready to act as soon as it looked as if Arthur was about to topple over. He didn’t. Good.

The Knight moved to Arthur’s side and put his free hand on Arthur’s thigh. “Place your hands on my shoulders. We need to get you down. Wouldn’t want you to put any weight on that leg of yours.”

Arthur did as  instructed and placed his hands on the Knight’s shoulders. 

Something was off. He didn’t feel the thick metal shoulder pads he expected. Didn’t hear the chiming of the chain mail circlets as the Knight moved. Come to think of it, he hadn’t felt metal against his back while they rode to safety either. He’d only felt hard muscle support his neck and shoulders. 

Alarmed, Arthur looked down at the man he’d thought to be one of his Knights. The man looking up at him was covered in black ashes and soot, that stood in stark contrast to his bright white teeth and even brighter blue eyes. His saviour was dressed in a cloak, probably a hunter or a travelling merchant who’d gotten surprised by the fire, Arthur thought.

He let the man help him down. That seemed like a great idea. And it was. Up until the moment Arthur tried to stand on his own. As soon as he did, his leg gave out from under him and he toppled down, taking his saviour with him. Together they landed in the tall grass. Arthur had landed on top of the man, pinning him down. His saviour smelled like  rosemary, Arthur noticed. Rosemary and something spicy he couldn’t quite place. Arthur inhaled deeply, relieved to get the stench of the smoke out of his nostrils, if even for a second. As they stared into each other's eyes, Arthur noticed a heat in the man’s gaze that had nothing to do with the flames they’d just escaped from. All too soon, the look was gone, and his saviour went back to his business of taking care of Arthur. 

“Easy now. Didn’t I tell you not to put any weight on your leg?” the man huffed, as he pushed Arthur off of him, careful to roll Arthur over on his left side, to keep from putting any weight on that wounded leg of his.

Arthur coughed up another blob of black mucus, after which his saviour took out a waterskin and handed it to Arthur. Arthur eagerly swallowed down the water like... well like a man who’d been caught in a forest fire would, really. Even though he could have downed the whole thing, Arthur made sure to leave half of it for his saviour. 

“Better?” Arthur’s saviour asked. 

Arthur cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was raw, after inhaling all that smoke. “Yes, very much so. Thank you...”

“Merlin.”

“Merlin.” Arthur repeated. “Thank you, Merlin.”

The man, Merlin, looked at Arthur, his eyes lingering on Arthur’s armour, the royal crest on the pin he’d fastened his cloak with. Realisation seemed to dawn on him. His shoulders stiffened a little. Ah there it was, Arthur thought. 

“You’re welcome... Sire.”

The man took off his neckerchief and wet it with the rest of the waterskin’s contents before wiping Arthur’s face clean. He undid the clasp of Arthur’s cloak, a pin the shape of the Pendragon crest and Arthur felt the cool cloth wipe away the dirt in his neck. The merchant leaned in close enough for him to smell this enthralling mixture of rosemary and spices again. Arthur inhaled deeply, hoping the man would take it as a sign of relief, rather than him breathing in his saviour’s unique scent.

As soon as the man was done, he leaned back and wetted the cloth again so he could wipe the dirt off of his own face. Arthur’s mouth went dry. And it wasn’t from the smoke, this time. From underneath the soot and grime, the most gorgeous face he’d ever beheld appeared. High cheekbones, full lips and thick eyebrows that framed those sapphire eyes just the right way, appeared. Arthur licked his cracked lips as the man’s hand slid down to clean the soot off of his neck... revealing a...

Arthur cursed. 

As soon as the dirt in the man’s neck washed off, a black tattoo became visible. A druidic symbol the  size of a fist had been inked into the man’s skin. Visible for the whole damn world to see.

His saviour hadn’t been a Knight. Or a travelling merchant. 

He was a druid. A magic user. The one thing Arthur had been taught to hate. 

Arthur cursed again. 

***

“Don’t be such a  clotpole and let me help you,” the druid, Merlin, said, “You’re hurt. I can tell you’re hurting.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Ple ase. Just let me... look at it. I can heal you. I just have to take a look at your leg first, see what we’re dealing with. But you’ll need to let me take care of you now, or you might not recover fully. What would you rather save, your pride or your leg?”

That stilled Arthur. The loss of his leg would mean losing his freedom. It would mean he’d no longer be able to train with his knights, compete in tournaments, leave the citadel to go on quests... It would mean he’d be stuck in Camelot, where he’d abide his time, waiting for the inevitable death of his father, which would make him king . 

The druid leaned  back, his face unreadable. He’d said all there was to say anyways, hadn’t  he. Either Arthur would let the man look at his leg, or he wouldn’t. There was no way he was going to force his magic upon Arthur. And why would he? Why bother saving someone whose entire youth had been  spent learning to hate everything the druid represented? 

Arthur was surprised the man had bothered at all. The moment Arthur had found out his saviour was a  druid, he’d tried to get away. That plan had been short-lived, seen as how Arthur could barely crawl five feet without all but howling from the pain in his busted knee. Didn’t keep him from trying though. And yet the druid had remained calm. Had asked Arthur for permission to touch him. Hadn’t even spoken about using magic, although Arthur assumed that was implied. 

The man’s question hung in the air.  _ What would you rather save, your pride or your leg? _

The druid kept still, allowing Arthur to make up his mind. And in the end, the druid’s silence was what convinced him to trust the man. All his life, people had been speaking for him. His father, the people at court. Every single one of them had told him what to think, what to say and what to do. Who to trust, who to  hate. Who he could spend time with and who should be  avoided. Not him. Not this druid. Not his saviour. Not... Merlin. This gentle man had spoken his mind, had said what he felt  Arthur needed to hear and had chosen to give Arthur the space he needed to decide for himself. 

Arthur nodded. He tried to pull up his pant leg so the druid could see what he was dealing with. The joint was so swollen they had to cut it open to reveal the twisted knee, which had already started to turn a dark purple. Arthur realised he wasn’t able to bend it at all, which is when the severity of the situation sank in. What if the man couldn’t fix his leg? Magically or otherwise.

No use in bothering with the what ifs, he supposed. He kept perfectly still while the druid prodded and poked his sore flesh. Or tried  to at least. The man hummed and huffed and nodded, leaving Arthur utterly clueless as to whether or not that meant something could be done. 

Finally, after what seemed like half an hour, the man looked up. 

“I can reduce the swelling, and cast a couple of healing charms. That should help with the pain you’re in now. But I’ll need you to come back with me. This is going to take a while.”

“ So you can fix it? Using... magic?”

“I ca n.” The druid spoke in a soft voice. Arthur was reassured by how calm he sounded, unbothered with trying to convince Arthur, let alone himself, of his ability to heal the leg. Arthur had learned a long time ago that people who tried to convince you of their abilities and importance, usually didn’t have much of either. 

Then the rest of what the druid had said dawned on Arthur. “Wait. Come back with you? Back where?” 

“Back to our camp.”

“No.”

The druid arched a brow. 

“No?”

“You heard me. I’m not coming with you.”

“I just suggested using magic on you and you draw the line at going with me?” 

Arthur nodded, a scowl on his face, readying himself for the question he knew would come. The question  he didn’t think he’d be able to answer.

“Why?”

_ Because I d _ _ on’t want to know where to find you after all this is over. Because I don’t want to have a reason to come back and hunt your people down. Because you helped me and taking me back with you would mean the death of you and your family if your leader, Emrys, ever found out, either by my hand or his.  _

“Because I don’t think I can trust you,” Arthur lied. 

“Oh.”

The lie effectively cut that conversation short, so the druid focused on Arthur’s leg instead. He took his time mustering up a makeshift splint for Arthur’s leg and had made some sort of poultice to wrap it in. It smelled like death, but Arthur had to admit it relieved some of his pain. 

Afterw ards, the druid held his hand over Arthur’s thigh. He sought Arthur’s eyes as if asking permission. It would have been easier on Arthur if the man had simply used his magic on him, rather than giving him an out. Because Arthur’s murmured “Go ahead” meant this was his choice. He’d chosen to let a magic user near him. Had chosen to let him use magic on him. Damn it.

A part of him was grateful the druid didn’t force anything on him. Another part wished he had. 

The moment the healing magic flooded through Arthur’s veins, reknitting the torn muscle and twisted ligaments, the druid’s eyes changed colour. The piercing blue shifted into a mesmerizing molten gold. When the druid lifted his eyes from Arthur’s leg only to look right at him, Arthur couldn’t remember how to breathe. They stayed like that for a while, until the druid’s breathing got heavier, as if the use of magic tired him. When the druid finally stopped, he looked tired. He hadn’t broken eye contact with Arthur. Neither of them looked away, even after the druid’s eyes turned blue again. 

Arthur tried to move his leg and was surprised to find out he could bend his knee again. The joint was still sore and swollen, but he doubted he’d end up a cripple after this. 

Which meant he probably had to thank the druid again. 

Great. 

Arthur wa s about to, when the druid spoke. He sounded tired. 

“Look, I know you said you didn’t want to come with me. But you’re not going anywhere on that leg and I need to rest before I can cast the healing charm again. I’d rather not sleep out here in the woods. There’s monsters lurking in the dark, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

The man’s eyes twinkled with amusement, and Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle. How on earth he could laugh about his brush with death with a magic user he was supposed to want to lock away in t he dungeons, was a mystery to him, but there they were. 

“ So. Sire –”

“Arthur .”

The druid arched a brow.

“If we’re going to the camp, I don’t want anyone to know who I am.”

“Why?”

_ Because you’ll get in trouble. Because you’ve already saved my life and I don’t want to owe you even more than I already do. Because I’d love to, just this once, be treated like an Arthur and not a Sire. Because I want to hear what my name sounds like coming from your lips. Preferably while you’re panting j _ _ ust like you did before when you used your magic on m–  _

“Because I doubt anyone of your kind is looking forward to sharing a tent with a Pendragon.”

The druid’s brow rose even higher, a hint of a smile on his lips. Arthur did his very best not to think about sharing a tent with the man, just in case the rumours about magic users having the power to read minds were true. 

“You’re probably right,” the druid said. 

“It happens.”

“Speaking of bringing a Pendragon into our camp...”

Arthur tilted his head, prompting the man to continue. 

“You don’t mind being blindfolded on our way there... do you?” The smirk around the druid’s lips indicated the man was very much aware of the innuendo. Arthur chose to ignore it. And if he had to clear his throat before being able to respond, that really was all about the smoke he’d breathed in earlier that day. Obviously. 

Arthur figured trying to get back up on the druid’s horse was enough of an answer. He wished he’d looked better while doing so, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Princes with splinted legs couldn’t be graceful while hobbling over to a horse they had no way of mounting without the help of the person they sort of maybe wanted to impress. At least his helplessness meant the handsome druid had to support him as he mounted the horse. That, Arthur didn’t mind at all. Just as he didn’t mind the fact that Merl- the druid didn’t walk next to the horse, but chose to mount it so he sat behind Arthur, their bodies flush against each other, his breath in Arthur’s neck. 

Something told  Arthur he did it on purpose. The feeling only got stronger when the man took his sweet time tying the blindfold over Arthur’s eyes. Arthur recognised the neckerchief Merl- the druid had used earlier to wash their faces. It smelled of him, Arthur thought as he inhaled. That same spicy scent drifted into his nose again. Maybe going back to the camp with the man wasn’t such a great idea after all. And not because of the magic his saviour had. 

Their journey to the druid camp took half a day. The sun had almost set when they got there. Not that Arthur could really tell. The blindfold did what it was supposed to do. Nevertheless, Arthur’s other senses were heightened after losing the ability to watch his surroundings. Arthur recognised the sounds of crickets chirping as they announced nightfall’s approach, felt the fresh evening breeze raise the hairs on his arms. Arthur would have denied it, had anyone asked him, but his lack of sight made him extr emely aware of the magic user behind him. He felt the man’s breath as it prickled the back of his neck, felt that lean chest  rise and fall behind him, confirming what Arthur had suspected when they left: Definitely a bad idea, this. 

Merl- the druid didn’t take Arthur’s blindfold off until he’d guided him to a tent. It was spacious, causing Arthur to wonder about what exactly his saviour’s rank was, if druids even had such a thing. During the ride over here, he’d realised he barely knew a thing about these people. All he’d ever heard was how they practiced evil magic. Yet that magic that had just relieved his pain and had given him the use of his leg back. So much for all magic being used for evil. Something else he’d been told, was how these people were recluses, led by their leader Emrys, who’d been plotting an attack on Camelot for years now. Arthur supposed he’d find out soon enough if that were true. 

He really hadn’t had much of a choice when it came to staying with Merl–, oh come on, he rolled his eyes. The man’s name was Merlin. He’d saved his damn life. It wouldn’t hurt to think of him as a person, rather than an anonymous druid, would it. Arthur started his inner monologue over. 

He really hadn’t had much of a choice when it came to staying with  _ Mer _ lin. He could have gone with him, or stayed behind in a forest he didn’t know, wounded and alone. There wasn’t much of a choice to be made, and pretending there had been would have been an insult to both him and the man who’d taken care of him.  Of course there hadn’t been. And his trust in the man would either prove misplaced. Or it wouldn’t. The fact that Arthur saw a living area rather than a prison cell when the blindfold w as removed made him think it was the latter. 

“Right, so,” Merlin sounded nervous, “I know you’re not exactly running sprints any time soon, but... er... it goes without saying that you’re not supposed to leave this tent.” 

Arthur nodded and smirked, barely suppressing the urge to ask Merlin if he’d preferred to tie him up, just to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. He decided against it. This wasn’t the time or place. Merlin’s eyes darkened, his pupils  dilating , as if he’d picked up on Arthur’s thoughts. Arthur wondered, again, if sorcerers really could read minds and sent a quick prayer up to the Gods or whoever else felt like listening. 

Merlin helped Arthur settle down on the bed. It wasn’t much more than a pile of furs, but they were soft and clean and smelled like... Oh. This was  _ his _ tent. Merlin’s. .

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ve got some things to take care of,” Merlin said, as he grabbed something out of a chest at the other side of the tent. Before closing the tent flap behind him, he turned around and whispered something. Arthur’s breath hitched as Merlin’s eyes flashed gold again. Arthur couldn’t hold back a gasp when every single candle in the tent lit up. Far too soon, the gold in Merlin’s eyes faded. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Merlin promised.

Arthur refused to think of what had just happened, knowing full well he should have gotten up and attack the man who’d dared to use magic in front of him. Twice now. That's what he should have done, rather than swoon over a bunch of lit candles. Arthur grunted, thoroughly annoyed by his involuntary reaction to everything that was happening. It was stress. Must be. Or magic. For all he knew, he was under a spell. That would explain why he didn’t feel any animosity towards the  drui \- Merlin. Yeah. It was probably magic. Arthur decided there was nothing to be done about it now. He should focus on getting better so he could get out of here. As soon as possible.  So he did as  instructed and made himself comfortable. Arthur sighed and leaned back against the pile of furs that served as a bed. The only bed in the tent. Merlin’s bed. 

_ Oh. _

When Merlin came back, he’d obviously cleaned himself in a stream or something. He looked  refreshed, his black hair still wet at his nape. He’d replaced his soot-covered cloak with clean breeches and a blue shirt. In the flickering light of the candles, Merlin’s cheekbones were even more pronounced, his lashes even longer. His eyes reflected the flames and shone even brighter than they had before. The colour of those eyes was what should have been illegal, Arthur thought, not magic. Merlin approached with a smile on his face. His cheeks were flushed, probably from the cold stream he’d bathed in. Arthur licked his lips and forced himself to look away when Merlin came closer.

“Here, figured you might want to wash up, too.” Merlin’s voice was soft. He walked over to the bed and placed down the bucket of water Arthur hadn’t even noticed he’d been carrying. 

“Am I under a spell?” Arthur blurted out.

Merlin looked confused. 

“Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He really didn’t have any way to tell the man was lying, did he. He’d just have to go on blind faith again. And wasn’t that just splendid. He groaned in frustration.

Merlin touched Arthur’s forehead with the back of his hand, as if to check for a fever. When he didn’t seem to register anything out of the normal, Merlin went over to a small chest by the bed and took out a vial. 

“No magic,” he said in reaction to Arthur’s scowl, “just oils. They should help you breathe easier after inhaling all that smoke.” He opened the vial and rubbed a bit of the oil from the vial on the back of his hand, as if to show Arthur the vial’s contents really were harmless.

Arthur grunted in agreement, after which Merlin turned the vial over into the bucket. He then handed Arthur a clean white cloth, he could wash himself with. “And I brought you something else to wear. Wouldn’t want you to smell like roast chicken any longer than necessary, would we?”

Arthur started to take off his armour. Unsure of whether or not he was relieved or offended by the fact Merlin didn’t watch him while he undressed, he undid his belt and lifted his chainmail shirt over his head. His tunic followed. Arthur hesitated, but decided to keep his breeches on. After dipping the cloth in the water, Arthur started to wash himself. He cursed loudly as the icy water trickled down his back. 

Merlin cleared his throat. Arthur looked at him, only to find that Merlin kept his eyes down and nodded towards the bucket in front of Arthur. “If you want, I could er, warm that up for you.” 

More magic. More of that molten gold. More...

“Yes,” Arthur heard himself say in a breathy voice. “Yes please.”

With a grin plastered on his face, Merlin held his hand over the water and heated it up. Magically. Which should have been awful and offensive. But really wasn’t. Especially not when the steam that rose from the bucket carried more of that rosemary and spice-scent. And then, finally, Merlin’s eyes found Arthur’s. Arthur felt himself heat up as he watched Merlin use his magic again and quickly pulled one of the furs over his lap as he realised just how hot it had gotten in the tent.

Neither of them  spoke while Arthur washed up. His eyes kept finding Merlin’s as he did. When he was done, Merlin took the cloth and the bucket from him and handed Arthur a plate filled with fruits and cheeses instead. 

“You must be hungry,” Merlin said. 

“Famished.”

Merlin chuckled. “That makes two of us.”

Arthur patted the furs next to him and Merlin sat down with him. They ate in silence. The comfortable kind. Arthur had sat through countless silent dinners. None like this, however. The loaded silence around them was almost tangible. He wondered if it was just him or if the man next to him felt it too. Not that he was going to ask him, obviously. He turned to study Merlin’s face, and noticed the circles under the man’s eyes. He’d said the healing magic had worn him out, earlier, hadn’t he? 

“You look tired,” Arthur said.

Merlin chuckled. “Such a charmer.” 

“You should get some rest.”

“I thought I was the one taking care of you?”

“You are. And I’d quite like you to continue doing so. Which might not be possible if you end up sleep-deprived.”

Merlin tilted his head.

“You would?”

Arthur gave him a puzzled look.

“You would like me to continue?” Merlin asked.

Arthur opened his mouth but found he didn’t have the energy to deny it.  So he shut it and simply nodded. 

“Thank you for trusting me. I know it can’t be easy. Not with our people’s history.”

“Would you have saved me if you’d  known who I was?” Arthur asked. The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted asking the question, unsure of whether or not he’d even want to hear the answer.

Merlin took his time to ponder the question. His response was an earnest nod. “I would have.”

“I’m glad you blindfolded me, earlier,” Arthur said. “I wouldn’t want to tell my father where to find you.”

“Good thing I didn’t put you in a position where you’ll have to make that decision then.” Merlin yawned. “You were right though. I  _ am _ tired.” He took a couple of furs off of the bed and started to spread them out on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

Merlin arched a brow. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Yes.  But.. I mean... you’ve had a strenuous day. You could...” Arthur felt like punching himself in the face. He had  _ such  _ a way with words, didn’t  he. In the end he just pointed to the bed and shrugged.

“Just so we’re clear, Arthur, you’re inviting a sorcerer into your bed?”

Arthur swallowed. If he put it  _ that  _ way. Then again, that was what he was doing. Might as well own up to it. 

“I am. If you wanted to hurt me you would have by now.”

Merlin’s eyes darkened. He didn’t say a thing as he rolled up the furs and moved back up on the bed. Before lying down, he helped Arthur get settled. Helped him stretch out his hurt leg. Covered it with the softest furs. Only then did he lie down himself. 

Merlin whispered something. The candles went out. For the briefest of moments, the only light source in the tent were Merlin’s eyes. They looked like stars, Arthur thought, before drifting off. 

***

Arthur was grateful the intimacy which had seemed to grow between the two of them didn’t disappear when the sun rose. After a full night’s rest, Merlin barely stopped talking. He’d gotten up to fetch the two of them breakfast, which they’d eaten in Merlin’s bed. Merlin had cast another healing charm right around the time Arthur’s knee had started throbbing again. When he’d assured  himself his patient wasn’t in any pain, Merlin had seemed to relax again. They spent the morning laughing in bed. Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself like this, without having to worry about his responsibilities. They avoided talking about anything directly related to the druids or to Camelot, but soon found out there were more than enough topics to discuss. Merlin amused Arthur with stories about his childhood friends Will and Freya. Arthur was more than happy to provide some stories of his own. He told Merlin about the pranks he and his sister Morgana had pulled on visiting nobles over the years. 

“You know,” Arthur said, as Merlin wheezed after hearing about the time Audrey, Camelot’s head chef, had chased the court physician with a ladle, “if things were different. I think we'd probably get on.”

Merlin propped his head up on his elbow, as his eyes found Arthur’s. His voice softened. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We already do.”

“Oh.” Arthur furrowed his brow. “I suppose you’re right.” 

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Merlin grinned and rolled his  eyes, which Arthur took as his cue to shove him off of the bed.

Arthur had wondered what the others in the camp would think of the sound of their laughter coming from the tent, and as it turned out he didn’t have to wait much longer to find out. 

Right around noon, Merlin cast another healing spell on Arthur’s leg, after which he ordered him to get up. Yes, that’s right.  _ Ordered.  _ Arthur had shot the man an incredulous look but had thought better than to show just how much the other man’s audacity had shaken him. People usually didn’t tell him what to do. Arthur quickly came to the conclusion that he quite liked the experience. Or maybe it was simply because of how the other man lowered his voice when bossing Arthur around. And maybe, just maybe, that tone of voice was the reason Arthur made Merlin repeat the command. 

When he got up, Arthur was surprised to find he could actually stand up without help. Walking took some effort and Merlin quickly rushed to Arthur’s side, to offer him the support he needed. This new development in Arthur’s healing couldn’t have come soon enough. And yet the realisation that this fast recovery meant Arthur’s time here would soon be over hit like a battering ram. 

“Looks like you’re recovering quickly,” Merlin said. Arthur wondered if he imagined the rueful tone of voice. 

“You should probably take it slow.”

Arthur nodded in agreement.

“So, how about a short walk, then?” Merlin asked, offering his arm to Arthur for support. He nodded in the direction of the tent flap.

“Wait...”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you trip over your feet... Sire.” The last word sounded like an insult. Arthur smirked, briefly distracted from his earlier confusion. 

“Not what I’m worried about,” Arthur mumbled.

Merlin waited for him to explain himself, his arm still out for Arthur to take a hold of. 

“Won’t you get in trouble for bringing a stranger here? I’ve heard your leader, Emrys, isn’t fond of... anything that could compromise your people.”

Merlin took Arthur’s hand and placed it on his bicep himself. “And I’ve heard the Prince of Camelot is a  prattish toad.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped.

“ Oh don’t worry Sire. The next time I’m told you look like a  toad, I’ll make sure to correct anyone who dares to insult your good looks. Can’t say I’d feel comfortable correcting the first part though.”

Merlin’s eyes found Arthur’s, the twinkle in them almost made Arthur lose balance. Arthur decided a distraction was the best course of action and he planted his elbow right between Merlin’s ribs. 

“Ow!” Merlin grinned. “Careful, Arthur, we wouldn’t want Emrys to find out I’m under attack.”

Arthur blinked. This was the first time he’d heard Merlin say his name. It sounded every bit as wholesome as he’d imagined, rolling from those full lips of his. 

“I... I was joking,” Merlin said. The worry in his voice snapped Arthur back to attention.

“Right. Of course.  Of course you were.” Arthur grabbed the man’s arm a bit tighter, even though he was pretty sure they both knew he’d manage without the support. “If you’re sure you won’t get into any trouble, I’d be happy to go for a walk with you.”

Merlin’s smile was brighter than the light that streamed in when he opened the tent flap. 

***

“So this is what you see every morning?”

“It is.” 

Merlin kept quiet as Arthur took in the view. They’d walked through the druid camp together. The walk had been pleasant enough, although Arthur had the feeling he stuck out like a sore thumb. Every single person they passed had stopped what they were doing to nod their heads at them. In any other situation, that wouldn’t have surprised Arthur. He was used to his people greeting him whenever he walked past. One of the many things he wished he could go without. He hadn’t expected it here, however. It felt rather unsettling. He had the feeling Merlin felt the same way. He’d felt the man’s arm tense slightly whenever they passed the druids. 

Standing here, where they could look over the ridge the camp was set up on, Merlin seemed as relaxed as he’d been in their tent. Merlin’s tent, Arthur corrected himself. Not theirs.

The view really was  breathtaking . Arthur worried a little about the man’s lack of self-preservation. From where they stood, Arthur could easily make out several landmarks which would allow anyone with ill intentions to find their way back to the camp without the least bit of effort. He made a mental note to tell Merlin not to trust people this easily next time. Next time. Arthur frowned. There probably would be a next time, wouldn’t there. Someone as selfless as Merlin would probably  pick up strays that needed saving wherever he could find them. The idea of him bringing another man home to his people bothered Arthur. He told himself this was because of the risk Merlin took by doing so. But he knew better, didn’t  he. He wasn’t upset because Merlin would bring someone home who could be dangerous. He was upset because Merlin would bring someone home who wasn’t Arthur. And wasn’t that just great? Just. Great. 

“You don’t like what you see?” Merlin asked.

“Oh, I do. The view here really is stunning.”

“Isn’t it just.”

When Arthur looked at Merlin, the other man’s face was already turned to his. Arthur’s mind went blank when he saw Merlin lick his bottom lip. He felt cold all over, except for where his hand rested on Merlin’s arm. In an attempt to feel more of the heat, he turned and took a step forward until he stood before Merlin. If he’d take another step forward, their chests would touch, Arthur thought. He looked at Merlin. They stood so close together, Arthur had to tilt his head upward a little. The other man was taller than him, he realised. Arthur was surprised to hear something resembling a growl come from the back of his throat. He breathed in. Bad idea. That tantalising scent of Merlin’s hit him full-on. He should let go. He really should. He shouldn’t put his free hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Shouldn’t slide it up to the man’s neck. Shouldn’t run his fingers through his saviour’s soft black hair. 

And yet. 

Arthur cupped the back of Merlin’s head and stopped moving, giving Merlin the chance to move away if he wished to do so. He felt his breathing quicken. Saw Merlin’s chest rise and fall as well. Felt those blue eyes burn until the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in anticipation. And then, suddenly Merlin was all over him. 

His hands were in Arthur’s hair. His lips on Arthur’s. He tasted like fire and Arthur wanted to burn.  Oh did he want to burn. They both gave and took. One moment Merlin’s lips were soft and almost reverent. The next, the fire between them flared up and their kisses turned raw and sloppy. They both became nothing but teeth and lips and hunger. Pushed and pulled. At some point, Arthur had manoeuvred Merlin with his back against a tree. He felt the tree’s bark scrape the skin on his arm. Felt Merlin’s tongue lick down the side of his neck. More, Arthur thought. He needed more. And he knew it would never be enough. He groaned when Merlin bit down on his clavicle and grabbed a handful of the man’s hair, while pulling him even closer.

Arthur shuddered when he felt Merlin’s strong hands slip around his waist until they found their way under his shirt. 

“Merlin, I...”

A woman’s scream rang through the camp.

“Emrys! Help!”

Merlin froze. 

“Emrys, the soldiers are coming!”

The voice echoed through the air around them. Then the panicked sounds of people shouting and gathering their things came from the direction of the druid camp. 

“They must be looking for me,” Arthur hissed. “You have to tell him. You have to tell Emrys I’m here, so he can hand me over. Give your people the time to... run.”

The blood in Arthur’s veins had turned to ice, the stark contrast with the way he’d felt only seconds ago couldn’t be more unnerving. He knew what his soldiers would do to the camp. He’d seen it before. Had participated in it before. And he knew he couldn’t let it happen again. Not to these people. Not to Merlin’s people. Not anymore. 

“Tell him I’m here. I can ride out to them. I can... I can buy you the time you need,” Arthur urged. 

Merlin’s voice was cold when he answered. Even though their bodies were still flush against each other, a distance had come between them. 

“He already knows.”

Arthur swallowed. 

“Alright.”

Merlin cupped Arthur’s face and kissed him one more time. The kiss was short and rough. It tasted like goodbye. 

Arthur ignored the pain in his leg as he rushed back to the camp with Merlin. The chaos they returned to was painful to watch. People were gathering their things, deciding in a matter of seconds which of their belongings could be carried and what should be left behind. He heard children cry, saw women pick up portraits of loved ones, only to drop them in favour of more practical things such as food and clothing. 

He saw an elderly woman with long dark hair run through the camp. Merlin stiffened as she approached.

“How long ‘till they get here, Finna?”

“Half an hour. Maybe less. Emrys, what do we do?”

Arthur froze and looked at Merlin. Merlin’s jaw clenched as he answered the woman. Told her to help everyone pack. Told her to send them away in small groups, so they could meet up again at midnight at the tower. 

The woman, Finna, nodded and turned to leave. 

Arthur didn’t move. He wasn’t sure he could. When he finally met Merlin’s stare, he thought he recognised sorrow in the other man’s eyes. Or maybe they were simply reflecting his own. Arthur heard a ringing in his ears that drowned out the sound of the druids shouting and running around. He couldn’t think. And wasn’t that a blessing. All he could hear was the woman’s voice. Over and over again.

_ Emrys, what do we do? _

Merlin, no, wait,  _ Emrys  _ started to speak. “Arthur, I...”

Hearing the pain in the man’s voice as he said Arthur’s name for the second time since they’d met was enough to shake him out of his stupor. He placed a finger on Mer – Emrys’ lips to silence him. 

“Please don’t.”

Merlin’s lip trembled under Arthur’s finger.

“We don’t have time for this, Emrys,” Arthur almost choked on the name. “And even if we did, I don’t think there’s much to be said. I want to help you help your people, so I need you to give me a horse. Nod if you understand.”

Emrys nodded. 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry! This isn' t the end... Arthur and Merl- Emrys' story will continue later this week.
> 
> Update: I've finished part two of their story. You can find it [**here**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28350531).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story. I had a lot of fun writing it (even though it took me longer than anticipated! I started writing and their story basically told itself. I can't wait for you guys to find out what happens next. 
> 
> As always, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments.  
> English isn’t my first language and I may or may not have written this in three days... So if there's anything that needs fixing, please let me know! 
> 
> Love!


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